


The Prince of Hell

by songofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: He squeezed his eyes shut. What had just happened? Sam had completed the cure, he should be human again… unless he couldn’t be cured.The cure has failed. Dean Winchester is a demon, and there's no changing that. But maybe some things can be changed. After all, Dean feels... different, after his brother pumped all that blood into him. It's not like how Crowley was after his almost-cure; Dean actually almost feels almost like himself again. So, what does a Winchester do when he realizes he's a demon and there's no way out? Take a seat on the throne of Hell, apparently.





	1. The Failed Cure

Dean remembered what Sam had told him about how Crowley had reacted to the cure. It had been clear that with each injection of blood he was becoming more and more human to the point that he welcomed the cure, the chance for redemption. He willingly bared his neck for the needle and asked Sam how he could find forgiveness. It wasn’t like that with Dean.

No, he could feel his body – or perhaps more specifically, the Mark of Cain – fighting against the humanity Sam was pumping into his veins. It was still affecting him, but the Mark seemed to ward off most of it. He had told his brother in the beginning that this just might kill him, and the further along they got in the process, the more Dean thought that he may have been right. This wasn’t how the cure was supposed to work. So, if it wasn’t working… what was it doing to him?

“Sam… you _need_ to stop this,” he ground out.

Sam’s face was set as he shook his head. “You know I can’t, Dean.”

“Why? Because you’re having too much fun turning your brother into a fucking science experiment?” he demanded harshly. “Well, let me clear this up for you. I died – the Mark turned me into a demon to keep me alive. Come on, you would always say you’re so much smarter than me, right? You do the math.”

“I am,” he said calmly. “And you’re right – this might kill you. But my brother would rather die than be a demon.”

Dean smiled at him coldly. “You sure about that? You sure that’s not just what _you_ want? I mean, you were just fine leaving me to rot in Purgatory, you yourself said you didn’t want to be brothers anymore. Maybe you think it would be easier if I were dead.”

He glared at him. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Oh no, I do. I mean, I’ve always thought my life would be easier without you in it. Why wouldn’t you think the same?”

Sam shook his head as he turned to pick up a knife from the table, pressing it into his palm until blood welled up there. “I know you don’t mean any of this,” he muttered as he turned back to him.

The door of the dungeon opened and Castiel returned. “Is it time?”

“You’re awfully eager to watch me die, Cas,” Dean spoke before Sam could. “And here I always thought you liked me better than Sammy.”

“I am hopeful that you won’t die.”

“Oh yeah, like you were hopeful that sucking in all the souls in Purgatory would make everything better? Or teaming up with Metatron? You always know where to put your cards.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Sam said firmly as he walked forward. “This is all about to be over.”

Dean tried to recoil, but it was pointless; he was chained to a chair, and Sam definitely had the upper hand here. As the cure was completed, images raced through Dean’s mind – a hastily scrawled note to his brother, the First Blade covered in human blood, the look on Crowley’s face the last time they’d spoken…. Even as the guilt welled up in him, though – among all the human emotions that he hadn’t felt in months – the one thing he didn’t feel was _human._

He squeezed his eyes shut. What had just happened? Sam had completed the cure, he should be human again… unless he couldn’t be cured. He had already suspected as much, after all, but he still hadn’t thought _this_ would be the result. It was as though he was caught somewhere in the middle between demon and human, and he wasn’t sure the wouldn’t have preferred that the cure had killed him.

“Dean?” Sam asked softly, worry causing his voice to quiver slightly.

What was he supposed to do? Telling his brother that he would forever be a demon would crush him, and he had already inflicted enough damage on him. And frankly, he wanted out of this chair, and he knew he’d never get out if Sam knew the truth. He didn’t know if he’d be able to pull off a human act, but he had to try.

He forced his eyes back to green, then opened them, looking wretchedly at his brother. “Heya, Sammy,” he muttered, his voice thick. His eyes flickered to Castiel, who was looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed. Yeah, there was no way he could possibly get away with this. Dean could clearly see the angel before him, just like Castiel would be able to see the demon that he was.

Sam followed his gaze. “Cas?” he asked hopefully.

Castiel just stared for another couple seconds before answering. “He… I have never seen a soul that has been cured of being a demon before. I suppose it would make sense that it never looks quite the same again….”

“What do you mean?” he asked worriedly.

“I mean Dean still looks… warped, if you will. Just not as bad as he did previously. I believe that there will always be traces of being demonized, even though he is human again.” He turned to Sam with a small smile. “You did it, Sam. It worked.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, unable to believe his luck.

His brother turned to him with a smile. “Welcome back, Dean.”

His eyes dropped down to his lap, wondering how Sam could possibly smile at him after everything. “Sam, I…”

“Let’s get you out of those restraints,” he cut him off, stepping forward. As Sam removed the demon-proof straps from his wrists, Dean felt a sense of relief as his strength returned to him. Crowley had never mentioned how freaking uncomfortable those things were.

He rose to his feet, stretching his arms. “Thanks,” he said without looking at him. He was especially grateful that they had never repaired the devil’s trap on the floor after the last time they’d let Crowley out of it. He looked briefly at his brother, then Castiel, then looked quickly away again. He found it difficult to look at either of them, at the moment, and he honestly didn’t know if it’d ever get any better.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Castiel asked gently.

“Like crap,” he answered honestly.

“You could probably use some rest,” Sam said, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “Probably.” Rest meant getting away from the two of them, and that was what he really needed.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Castiel began to back towards the door, but then he paused, looking at Dean. “It’s good to have you back, Dean.”

He nodded curtly, still without quite looking at him. “It’s good to be back.”

With a small smile, he left the room, leaving Dean alone with his brother.

Seconds of silence ticked by with Dean staring at the floor. Eventually, he sighed. “Sam, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Sam said, shaking his head. “That wasn’t you. You were-”

“A demon,” he finished bitterly. “Yeah, I know.” And that hadn’t changed.

“You know, when – when I got my soul back, you told me that I couldn’t beat myself up over the things I had done. So now I’m gonna tell you the same thing.”

Dean managed a small smile as he looked up at him. “How poetic, Sammy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean. I don’t blame you for anything – neither does Cas.”

 _Bet you would if you knew I was still a demon,_ he thought to himself. He shook his head slightly and started for the door.

“Dean-” Sam followed after him.

“You said it yourself,” he cut him off. “I just need to rest.”

“Right,” he sighed. “You know, if you want to talk about it…”

“I’m good, thanks.” He navigated the familiar halls until he came to his bedroom and walked inside. It was odd being back after everything. He had done everything he could when they’d moved into the bunker to make the room his own, to make it his home. But looking around the room now, it felt somehow both familiar and foreign at the same time. This was all his, but… he felt disconnected from it all.

“If you need anything…” Sam spoke from behind him.

He sighed as he turned around and forced himself to look at his brother. “Really, Sammy, I just need some rest. That took a lot out of me.” He glanced towards his bed, then back again. “It’s late – don’t let me keep you up.”

“I don’t mind-”

“I know, but I do. I already feel… off. You fussing over me just makes it worse.”

He nodded. That, at least, he understood. “Alright, well… Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, Sammy.”

Sam left, shutting the door behind him, and Dean was left staring at the room that didn’t quite feel like his anymore. He found himself staring down at his bed, remembering the last time he’d been in this room, when he’d woken up a demon with Crowley standing over him.

“Howl at the moon, huh?” he had asked as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, looking up at Crowley with black eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

Crowley had smiled charmingly. “Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“Yeah, see, I disagree. Because you wanted me as a demon, and it wasn’t just so we could blow off some steam together.”

“Says who?” he had countered. “It’s hard work running Hell, and I could use a break. And as for wanting you as a demon… can you really blame me for being curious?”

Dean had thought about it for a couple seconds, but he had been too excited at the prospect of a new life without consequences, and he hadn’t questioned Crowley further before deciding that he bought the lie. Of course, he’d threatened him, “If you try to pull anything, I _will_ kill you,” but then he had walked out the door with him without a second thought. After a life of putting everyone else before himself, Dean was ready to live it up, and Crowley was hellbent on showing him a good time.

He sighed as he sank down onto the foot of the bed. The thing was, it _had_ been a good time. Yeah, he had a shitload of regrets, but… it had been nice, enjoying himself for a change. And despite everything, he was grateful to Crowley for showing him how to do that.

He thought back to what Sam had said about how neither he nor Castiel blamed him, and he found himself wondering if Crowley did. Crowley, who had been determined to show him all the best things about being a demon, who had wanted him to rule Hell by his side, who he had spat in the face of and made a fool of in front of his loyal demons. He wondered how much Crowley had lost because of him. It was clearly enough to make him turn him over to Sam. Not that he wasn’t glad that Crowley had done so, but still… he was sure that Crowley, at least, blamed him. And that shouldn’t matter, but it did.

He hadn’t even realized he had pulled out his phone until he was looking down at the number he had dialed, his thumb hovering over the call button.

As he knew Sam had suspected, he _did_ need to talk to someone. But that someone couldn’t be him. Even if he did talk as though his only issue was that he _used_ to be a demon, Sam would never understand. Sure, he had had that whole soulless stint, but there wasn’t anything about that that he _missed._ And maybe Dean only missed it because he was still a demon, but did it really matter? This was who he was now, and there was clearly no changing it.

There was only one person he could talk to about this, but he knew it was useless. Still, he found himself calling. He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he brought the phone to his ear.

“Dean?” To his surprise, the phone was answered on the first ring.

Dean cleared his throat, more to give himself a chance to collect his thoughts than anything. He didn’t even know where to start. “Want to grab a drink?”


	2. Humanity

Dean was surprised that Crowley had agreed to meet him with only slight wariness that this was a trap. Apparently, Dean swearing to him that he wasn’t angry with him was enough; though he knew he probably had an escape planned out, just in case.

He walked into the bar and immediately spotted the familiar dark-suited figure sitting at the bar. There was an empty stool next to him that had a glass of whiskey set out in front of it. He smiled to himself. Crowley had bought him many drinks since he had become a demon, but this was the first time that it meant something to him to see that Crowley cared enough to order his regular drink for him in anticipation of his arrival. He found himself hoping even more that things weren’t about to change between them. He took a deep breath, and then he walked forward and slid onto the stool beside the other demon. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of cour-” Crowley turned towards him, then immediately tensed, and Dean knew that he needed to act fast before he vanished on him.

“It’s not what you think,” he said earnestly, his eyes pleading. “I promise. I’m not mad or anything, I just… I just need someone,” he sighed. It wasn’t often that he let Crowley see how desperate he was, but he knew that nothing short of that would get him to stay.

His eyes seemed to search his face for a minute, then he slowly began to relax. “What exactly did that cure do to you?” he asked slowly.

“I don’t know.” He picked up his whiskey and downed half of it in one go. “I’m still a demon-”

“Well, that’s obvious. But you look… off.”

“Feel it, too,” he muttered.

Crowley took his sip of his drink, and the corners of Dean’s lips quirked up when he recognized the fruity drink that he had ordered for him one of the last times they had been together. “What does Samantha have to say about it?” he asked eventually.

“He doesn’t know.” He swallowed down the rest of his drink under Crowley’s judgmental stare. “Don’t look at me like that! You should’ve seen how hopeful he was. If he knew I was still a demon, it would crush him.”

“You have changed,” he commented before he frowned slightly. “Did Castiel not make it to the bunker?” He waved over the bartender, motioning for him to get Dean another drink.

“No, he did,” he said with a shrug. “He thinks it’s just… demonic scarring, or whatever.”

“Well, I suppose it’s plausible. Clearly not the case, but plausible.”

Dean actually managed a chuckle at that.

“You realize they’ll find out eventually?” Crowley continued.

“I know, but… I guess I’m hoping that by then they’ll be able to see that it’s not such a bad thing.”

He arched an eyebrow as the bartender sat Dean’s drink down. “Do _you_ believe it’s not such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I just feel so… lost, like nothing quite fits. I mean, I feel more like myself than I did, but… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly.

Crowley eyed him thoughtfully as he sipped on his drink. “My offer still stands,” he eventually said.

Dean blinked at him in surprise. “You really want me to rule Hell with you? After everything I’ve done? After everything I did to _you?_ ”

“That wasn’t you,” he said matter-of-factly.

He shook his head. “Okay, from Sam and Cas I get that, but you? You know better.”

“Alright, I suppose it was you in a sense,” he conceded. “But not in the ways that matter. I had hopes – dreams – when you first became a demon. What I failed to realize was that the thing that made you _you_ was your humanity. Without it, you were just a shell, and that was never what I was after.”

“Well, by that logic, I’m still not me,” he pointed out.

“On the contrary. What that cure did was give you back your humanity. Oh, you’re still a demon, one hundred percent, and you’ll still have some demonic tendencies, but now you have your humanity to balance it out.”

Dean looked down at his drink. Well, he supposed that was something. At least he now had some kind of explanation as to what was going on with him, even if it was just Crowley’s opinion. But really, it made sense. He knew he was a demon, he could feel it in his bones, but unlike before, he actually cared about people and the consequences of his actions. “Well, I guess that’s better than what I was.”

“It is. And I feel even better about offering you a throne at my side with you in your current state.”

He huffed a half-laugh. “You sure you want a demon with so much humanity helping you run Hell?”

Crowley shrugged delicately. “So long as that demon’s you.”

He looked up at him slightly incredulously, searching his face, but of course he couldn’t see anything beneath Crowley’s usual mask of smugness. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“You never know unless you try,” he pressed.

Dean’s expression was growing steadily more incredulous, but though he studied him hard, he still couldn’t discover anything. “Why do you want this so much?” he finally asked.

“I just do,” he said simply.

He sighed, turning back to his drink. “If you’re not going to give me a real answer, I’m not even gonna consider it.”

“Fine. With you at my side, there’s nothing we couldn’t accomplish. Demons will cower at our feet. How’s that for a reason?”

Dean looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

“I’m not lying!” he protested indignantly.

“Alright, when you’re not telling the whole truth, then.”

Crowley glared at him. “You wanted a reason, and I gave you one.”

“Whatever, Crowley.” He finished off his second drink. He went back and forth on whether it was a perk or a downside of being a demon that it took a lot more to get him drunk. Tonight, it was definitely a downside.

“Alright, if my explanations aren’t good enough for you, let’s give you a turn. What’s troubling that mind of yours so much that you had to resort to calling me?”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned back to him. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m still a demon.”

“I can tell when you’re not telling the whole truth too, squirrel. There’s more to it than that. What was it you said before about feeling lost?” he pressed.

He sighed, catching the bartender’s eye and pointing at his empty glass. “It’s just… I don’t feel like I belong anywhere – not in the bunker, not in my _own room._ I don’t know how to talk to my brother, or Cas, I can’t relax. I’m not comfortable in my own skin, and I hate it.”

Crowley studied him for a few seconds as his glass was refilled. “Do you feel like that now?” he eventually asked.

“I…” Dean blinked in surprise as he realized that since Crowley had made the decision to stay, he had actually begun to feel almost comfortable, even with talking about being a demon. “No,” he admitted, his surprise audible in his voice.

He arched an eyebrow. “No? And why’s that?”

“The hell if I know,” he muttered without looking at him, knowing that Crowley would see through that.

“Hmm… perhaps you should consider my offer,” he murmured before taking another sip of his drink.

“Why?” he asked, turning to him. “Because I’ll feel more at home on the throne of Hell?”

“It could help you sort things out. You need to embrace both sides of you if you’re to figure out who you are.”

Dean leaned against the bar, eyeing the other demon thoughtfully. “Alright, despite the fact that you sound like a fortune cookie… let’s say I’m considering it. What exactly would be involved?”

Crowley’s eyes danced at the question as though he had already gotten his way. “The main thing I care about is broadcasting to all demons that if they cross me, they have the both of us to contend with. Beyond that, I’m open to negotiation.”

The corners of his lips flickered up slightly. Contending with demons he could definitely do. “When you say broadcasting… any way we could confine that to just demons that get the memo?”

“Certainly. Of course, demons do gossip, but if we make it clear that they aren’t to reveal to anyone the identity of their new prince-”

“Woah, prince?” he interrupted. “Don’t you mean king? You said by your side, after all.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “There’s only one king, darling. How about queen?” he suggested with a smirk.

Dean grimaced. “Let’s stick with prince.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.” He took another sip of his drink before he turned back to Dean, his eyes sparkling. “Does this mean you accept?”

He thought it over. Who would’ve ever thought that Dean Winchester would seriously consider ruling Hell, but here he was. He was a demon, and even if he were to pretend otherwise in front of Sam and Castiel, he couldn’t constantly deny what he was – that was just asking for trouble. As Prince of Hell, though… he could help Crowley keep demons in line, he could probably make a much bigger difference than he ever would’ve been able to make as just a hunter, only able to track down and kill demons after they had already killed innocent people. But still… “I’m a hunter.”

Crowley shrugged. “Lots of people work two jobs. I’ll be flexible with your schedule.”

He hesitated. “And you’re okay with that? A hunter getting the inside scoop on Hell?” He knew he shouldn’t ask – he should just take the advantage without pointing it out. But he owed Crowley more than that. If he took this job, Crowley would know exactly what his intentions were – he wasn’t taking it to betray him.

“To do what, exactly? Keep demons from murdering people left and right? Fine by me – do you have any idea how difficult those messes are to clean up? So long as you’re not planning to take me down from the inside…”

“I would never do that,” he said immediately.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

Dean sighed. “Well, not anymore.”

He smiled. “Then I don’t think we have a problem.”

He nodded thoughtfully, trying to come up with some reason not to accept. But as far as he could tell, there wasn’t one; or at least not one that overpowered all the reasons to say yes. Well then, he supposed there was only one question left. “So, when do I start?”


	3. Breaking Point

Crowley was mostly right about how the demons reacted to the news that Dean Winchester was their new prince. They were furious, but most of them were too terrified to do anything about it. There was one demon that straight up said he would never bow to a Winchester, and Crowley proceeded to kill him on the spot. That effectively put a stop to any further protests. Beatrice, the shy and timid analysis, even said that while appointing Dean was a risky decision on Crowley’s part, it had the power to be very profitable to Hell. And Dean had to admit, he was actually enjoying being Prince of Hell – ordering around demons that hated his guts was pretty damn entertaining, and it was certainly easier than the rest of his life.

“I know why you’re avoiding me,” Sam said, coming into the kitchen one morning.

Dean sighed. And even though he knew that Sam likely _didn’t_ know why, or else he would be taking a very different approach to this conversation, his words still made him nervous. “I was with you all day yesterday,” he pointed out without turning away from the sandwich he was making. He may not have to eat, but he still liked to.

“On a hunt, during which you refused to talk about anything but the case. You had the music turned up too loud to talk in the car, and the second we got back to the bunker, you nearly ran for your room – just like you have every time, since you were cured.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but his hands stopped moving and he stared down at the sandwich.

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “You shut me down every time I bring this up, but you have got to talk about it.”

“Talk about what exactly?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I was a demon, now I’m not. End of story.”

“You can’t act like it’s all cut and dry. You did some bad things, and that-”

“Yeah?” Dean interrupted, spinning around to glare at his brother. “So did you, Sam,” he snapped.

He drew in a sharp breath. “I wasn’t trying to accuse-”

“I know,” he sighed, looking down, feeling instantly guilty. He had just had such a short fuse lately, and the longer he kept everything buried, the worse it got. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam cut him off. His tone was sharp, but he didn’t sound angry or upset. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me since you got back that it sounded like you actually meant. So go ahead, yell at me, if that’s what you want – anything’s better than the shell you’ve been lately.”

“I don’t _want_ to yell at you.”

“So, what do you want?”

He shook his head. “I want you to drop this – to stop looking at me like I’m an inch away from snapping, like there’s something wrong with me. The cure worked, can’t we just be happy and leave it at that?”

“I’d love to,” Sam said gently. “But… I can tell there’s something haunting you. Whatever it is, Dean, I’m not going to look at you any differently. That wasn’t you. And like you said, I did plenty of horrible things without the excuse of being a demon.”

“Being a demon isn’t an excuse!” Dean found himself arguing. “You act like I was possessed or something, like I didn’t have control of myself, but that was all me! One hundred percent, Sammy. Everything I thought, wanted… it was all in there, deep down. I could’ve controlled myself, I just didn’t want to.”

“But that’s only because-”

“Because I made a _choice,_ Sam,” he said firmly. “Yeah sure, being a demon had something to do with it, but it was _all me._ I mean, Crowley’s a demon, and he doesn’t act like I did.” He knew he was in dangerous territory, talking about demons, bringing Crowley up specifically, but he couldn’t help it. If Sam blamed all the bad things he had done over the past months on the fact that he had been a demon, he would never accept him as a demon now.

“No,” Sam admitted. “But that’s because Crowley’s a monster in his own, unique way.”

“Hey, he’s the one that turned me over to you.”

“After turning you into a demon in the first place! Are you seriously defending _Crowley?”_ he asked incredulously.

“He’s been on our side more often than not,” he snapped back.

“He’s killed-”

“So have we, Sam! I killed Lester, and you got him to sell his soul to kill his wife. We’re not blameless over here!”

“Crowley’s a demon-”

“So, what? Bad things only count if you’re a demon?” he nearly shouted. “Nothing a human can do is as bad? That’s some pretty fucked up logic!”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Sam protested, shaking his head. “Dean, you don’t even sound like yourself.”

“Well, did you ever think that maybe, _just maybe_ , being a demon changed me just a bit?”

“Of course it did, I just-”

“Don’t want to see it. Yeah, I got that, Sam. Why do you think I’ve been keeping my distance?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Save it.” Leaving his sandwich forgotten on the counter, he stalked towards the door of the kitchen, shouldering past his brother.

“Dean-” Sam tried to stop him.

Dean was acting on pure instinct when he spun around and punched Sam in the face. He paused for just a second after Sam hit the ground – clearly not having expected the punch – then he turned and nearly ran from the bunker.

* * *

 

Balancing human emotions with demonic instincts wasn’t always the easiest, and often times when Dean was at the bunker, he felt about an inch away from snapping. He supposed that it had only been a matter of time until he couldn’t suppress it any longer.

He strode through the hall of the old asylum that Crowley had made his home and threw open the door of the lounge. There was only one demon inside – Jethro, he thought his name was – reclining on the couch. His head snapped up when he heard the door open.

Dean snapped his fingers. “Out,” he said sharply, but he otherwise ignored the demon as he walked purposefully over to the liquor cabinet.

“Of course, sir,” Jethro’s voice was sarcastically respectful as he rose to his feet. “No one here wants to be around you anyway,” he added in a mutter, just loud enough to be heard, as he walked towards the door.

Dean’s arm shot out and he grabbed hold of the back of Jethro’s collar before he could take more than a step. His eyes turned black as he swung the other demon around, slamming him against the wall. “What did you just say?” he hissed as his hand closed around his throat.

“I-I’m sorry!” Jethro gasped. “I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, I think you did.” The hand on his throat began to tighten. Demons didn’t technically _need_ oxygen to live, but depriving them of it was certainly uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Am I interrupting something?” a familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

Dean’s hand dropped to his side and he turned to face the door, his eyes returning to green as they landed on Crowley. “We were just chatting.”

The corner of Crowley’s lips quirked up slightly in amusement. “Clearly.” His eyes flickered to the other demon. “Jethro, you can leave.”

Jethro gave a short nod before rushing from the room.

“Something troubling you?” Crowley asked once the two of them were alone, studying Dean’s face.

Dean shrugged as he leaned back against the wall. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I just walked in on you using a demon as a stress ball. Now, while I don’t see any problem with that, if something’s going on with you, I would like to know about it.”

He sighed, his eyes flickering down. “I punched Sam,” he muttered.

Crowley arched an eyebrow. “Would’ve liked to see that. What happened?”

“He just kept badgering me, wanting me to talk, and I _can’t_ talk to him. I wish I could, but I can’t, and it’s killing me.”

“So, punching him is clearly the answer.”

“I snapped, okay? I’ve been on my last straw for a while now, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And did you ever stop to think that that may be _because_ you’re lying to your brother?” he asked reasonably.

“Does it matter? There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You could tell him the truth,” he suggested.

“That I’m a demon? Yeah, that’ll go over real well. No thanks – I’d rather have a strained relationship with him than none at all.”

“Well then, there’s only one option left,” he announced.

He looked at him skeptically. “And what’s that?”

“You need to blow off some steam. You’re working two jobs, on top of all your family drama, and I’m just going to assume that you haven’t taken much time for yourself.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, but a wry smile was turning up the corners of his lips. “This another ‘howl at the moon’ speech?”

Crowley smiled. “Let me go get Jethro. I’m going to show you the best way to play darts.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We need that jackass for darts?”

“Of course,” he said as though it should be obvious. “He’s the target.”

Dean chuckled to himself as Crowley left the room. He always knew just what he needed these days. Sometimes he would think about how much easier it would be to spend next to all his time with Crowley (though, honestly, he wasn’t that far off), but he refused to run off on Sam again like he had done when he’d been a full-blown demon. He couldn’t abandon his brother. But he also couldn’t admit to him that he most enjoyed spending his time with the King of Hell.

He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text. ‘Sorry about before. Its just been a lot lately. Need to clear my head. Talk to you when I get home.’ And he _would_ talk to him, he vowed. After blowing off some steam with Crowley, he should have a level enough head to have a calm conversation with his brother that would hopefully appease him. Even though he couldn’t tell him what was really going on, he knew he could no longer avoid telling him at least _something._

Just after he sent the text, another demon entered the room. “Oh, sorry, Sir,” she said respectfully when she saw him. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the King around?”

Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, figuring he knew what this was about. “What’s going on?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“It’s just…” She glanced around uncomfortably. “There’s something I need to see him about.”

“Well, anything you’ve got to say to him, you can say to me.”

Her eyes flickered to him, then away again. “It’s personal. He said he would meet me here,” she added, looking at him.

He huffed a sigh, fighting the urge to smile victoriously. “Well, he was just here a minute ago and made plans with me. I think he’s forgotten.”

“Oh,” she huffed, deflating. “Well… I don’t suppose-”

“I’ll see you around, Nadia,” he cut her off pointedly.

She huffed again before she spun on her heels and exited the room.

Dean shook his head. He was used to it by now – the countless demons that tried to work their way up the ranks by sleeping with their king. Crowley usually entertained them, too. He pretended not to know what they were after, slept with them, then when they expected more, he tossed them aside. Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t get on his nerves.

They came onto him too, of course; not as much, but still. He always blew them off, though. He didn’t see the point, and he didn’t see the point Crowley saw in it, either. _To have some fun,_ he would say, but….

Dean sighed. He knew he was just jealous. He hadn’t been too far into his reign as Prince of Hell when he’d realized just how much Crowley meant to him. He had thought about acting on his desire; after all, Crowley flirted with him often enough. But then he had seen how Crowley treated those he slept with. There was always the chance, the hope, that he would be the exception, but he wasn’t about to act on anything until he knew for sure. Crowley was the one person he felt truly comfortable with right now – he wasn’t about to screw that up.

Crowley reentered the room, dragging a reluctant Jethro behind him. “Ready to play?” he asked with a grin.

Dean smiled as he pushed himself off the wall. “You know it.”


	4. Rumors

It was a couple months later that the rumors reached Dean and Crowley’s ears. A handful of demons had apparently banded together in opposition to their reign, calling themselves the Contra. They both found it rather ridiculous. So, some demons were throwing a fit over the fact that a Winchester was now their prince? It had been bound to happen, and just because they gave themselves a name, it didn’t mean they were an actual threat. They’d be put in their place eventually and be made a lesson to all other demons, but currently, Dean was a little busy.

“This is the same Djinn that got away from us last month?” Dean asked through a mouthful of burger. “You’re sure?”

“Well, it’s following the same pattern,” Sam said without looking up from his laptop. “It’s like it’s moving from town to town, finding all the most the most desperate, and then…” He shook his head.

_Well, that would explain why the crossroad demon we stationed here has come up with squat – all the desperate are stuck in some fantasy world._

“How did it get away from you last time?” Castiel asked. Sam had called him in as soon as he’d realized what they were dealing with, not about to let this thing get away twice.

“I guess it realized we were onto it, and then it just vanished.”

“Well, not this time,” Dean said confidently as he got up from the motel room table and walked over to riffle through his duffle bag. He straightened up with a silver knife. “We’re killing that son of a bitch.”

It helped that they already knew the Djinn’s habits this time around, so they were able to track him down easily enough. They cornered him in his warehouse, Sam poised to run him through with the knife dipped in lamb’s blood.

“It was you killing people in Des Moines, wasn’t it?” Sam demanded.

“You mean when you failed to catch me?” he asked, awfully confident for someone with a knife to his chest. “I thought you two were supposed to be unstoppable. Perhaps you’re losing your touch.”

“We caught you now, didn’t we?” Dean pointed out.

He turned his head towards Dean, smiling. “But it will do you little good. The Contra won’t be defeated so easily.”

Surprise washed over his face. “Wait.” He placed his hand over Sam’s, stopping him in case he decided to go ahead and kill the Djinn. “You can’t be a part of the Contra. They’re all demons.”

“It was started by demons,” he corrected. “But they’re smart; they know that the greater number of creatures they have, the greater their advantage. They are far more than just demons now.”

“What-”

“What is the Contra?” Sam interrupted, looking from the Djinn to Dean and back again.

“It is a band of demons rising up against Crowley and his reviled prince,” the Djinn explained, his amused eyes running over Dean as he said the last two words with relish. Oh, _dammit._

He frowned. “His prince?”

His smile grew wider, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “You don’t know?”

Panicking, Dean glanced back at the doorway. In the next room over, he could see where Castiel was standing watch next to a tall pile of crates, his back to them. _Sorry, man,_ Dean thought to himself as he flicked his wrist and the stack topple over, taking the surprised angel to the ground with them.

“Cas?” Sam called, his eyes only flickering briefly to the door so as not to allow the Djinn to take advantage of his distraction.

“Why don’t you go check on him?” Dean suggested, taking the knife from his brother. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He hesitated for just a moment before he nodded. “Holler if you need me,” he said before turning and walking away.

He breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his brother’s need to always make sure everyone was okay.

As soon as Sam was out of the room, Dean dug the tip of the knife into the Djinn’s shoulder. “What do you know about the Contra?” he hissed.

“Your brother has no idea, does he?” the Djinn ground out through the pain.

“I’m asking the questions here.” He twisted the knife. “What work were you doing for them?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he spat. “The way you and Crowley are running Hell, you’re relying almost entirely on crossroads deals. How have sales been since we’ve been feasting on all the most desperate in your target regions?”

“So, sabotaging our crossroads deals? That’s what they’re playing at?”

“Oh, that’s just one small part of their plan.”

“So, what’s the rest of it?” he demanded, digging in harder with the knife.

He grunted in pain. “That’s unnecessary. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Yeah? Well, start talking.”

“I will. As soon as Sam gets back.”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“You can torture me all you want, Dean Winchester; I’m only talking to Sam. But rest assured, when he gets back, I’ll tell him _everything_ I know.”

 _We’ll see about that,_ he was about to say, but then he heard footsteps entering the room behind him. _Shit._ As much as he needed to know what the Djinn knew about the Contra, even more so he couldn’t let Sam find out about him – especially not like this. Moving fast, he yanked the knife back from where it was buried in his shoulder and then plunged it into his chest. Crowley would be pissed when he found out, but he could deal with it.

“You killed him,” Sam said, a note of disbelief in his voice as the Djinn’s body crumpled to the ground.

“Yeah, he didn’t know anything,” Dean said as he turned to him and Castiel. “You okay, man?”

Castiel nodded. “I am not quite sure what happened. Those crates just collapsed.”

“Must not’ve been balanced well.”

“Dean,” Sam said seriously. “You knew about the Contra.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve heard of them,” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Back when… you know…. Crowley never took them seriously, though – they were just some disgruntled demons that thought they’d give themselves a name to feel better about themselves. Didn’t think it was anything he had to worry about.”

“Well, clearly they’re more than that.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking down at the Djinn’s body. He just wished he knew what they were, exactly.

“So, this Djinn was part of a group of demons rising up against Crowley?” Castiel clarified.

“Yeah-”

“And his prince, he said,” Sam added, looking at Dean. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Dean shook his head. “Must’ve happened after I was cured,” he said casually.

“So, you don’t know who it might be? Or why there’s now a Prince of Hell?”

“No. Is that really what you’re most worried about, here? Because frankly, I’m a little more concerned about this whole Contra business. Crowley hasn’t been giving us any problems, and if these new demons manage to take charge, there’s no telling what’ll happen.”

“Look, we’ve let Crowley be because he’s the devil we know and all that, but now he’s sharing the throne, and we don’t know what that means. It worries me.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly? The guy was probably just lonely. That’s why he wanted me as a demon. Hell, he probably planned for me to be the prince, so when that fell through…”

“Dean does make a fair point,” Castiel admitted.

“So, you’re really not worried about Crowley suddenly having a prince?” Sam demanded.

Dean shrugged. “Not really. I mean, the way the Djinn was talking, sounds like most demons hate him. How bad can he be?”

He sighed. “Okay, so the Contra, then,” he said, resignedly.

“I have to tell Crowley about them. If they’re a bigger threat than he thinks, then he needs to know. But ultimately, the way I see it, they’re his problem. If we come across them, we’ll take notes, but I’m not doing his dirty work for him like I did with Abaddon.” The further he kept Sam away from this whole mess, the better – if they started looking into the Contra together, there was no way Sam wouldn’t find out that he was the Prince of Hell.

Sam appeared to be relieved. “Good. Alright, let’s call him.”

Dean blinked. “What? Now?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “You think this is something we should wait on?”

“Well, no, but… I just didn’t think there was a huge rush on it, either.”

“If we have to talk to Crowley, I just want to get it over with.”

“Hey, you don’t have to. I can handle it,” he offered hopefully. Even though he knew how good Crowley was at lying and keeping secrets, he still didn’t particularly want him talking to Sam – especially not with the questions Sam was going to be asking him.

Sam shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone in that. Not after everything.”

Dean nodded. “Right. Well, thanks,” he muttered as he fished his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Crowley. He put the phone on speaker and prayed that he’d be able to speak before Crowley said too much.

“Dean?” Crowley answered.

“Crowley,” he said, keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “Sam and I have some information that concerns you.”

He hesitated for just a second longer than he normally would have – Sam probably didn’t notice, but Dean certainly did. “I’m all ears.”

“Back when I was, uh, you know…”

“A demon? Come now, squirrel, it’s not that tough of a word.”

“Right. Well, you mentioned the Contra, but you said they weren’t really a threat.”

“They’re not, as far as I’m aware,” Crowley said slowly. “Do you know something different?”

“The Djinn we were hunting was a member,” Sam said. “And he implied that there might be other creatures involved, too.”

“A lot of other creatures,” Dean added.

There was a pause as Crowley processed that. “What did the Djinn tell you?”

“Not much,” he said, a little guiltily. “Just that the demons in charge told him to go to places like Des Moines and Tulsa, hunt down all the most desperate people, and do his thing.” Crowley would be able to connect the dots.

“They’re trying to take away business….”

“Crossroads deals,” Sam realized.

“Exactly. He didn’t say anything more about what the Contra is planning?”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered. “He didn’t know anything.”

Crowley was silent in a way that made Dean think he knew he was lying, and not just for Sam’s sake.

“There was one thing he said,” Sam said, and a sense of dread pooled in Dean’s stomach. “Something about you having a Prince of Hell.”

“Yes. And?” Crowley asked innocently.

“Who’s the prince?” Castiel spoke up.

“Oh, hi, feathers. Why exactly does that concern you?”

“Give it a rest, Crowley,” Sam snapped. “We haven’t made any moves against you, but if you’re up to something-”

“Up to something? It’s just a title, moose. He’s not even all that bright – just something nice for me to look at.”

Dean glared at the phone, glad that his irritation seemed to be enough to stop him from blushing.

“So, why all the secrecy?” Sam demanded.

“It’s not secrecy, it just doesn’t make a bloody difference. If I say the name Eli, do you know who I’m talking about? No, you don’t. So, why tell you?”

“I suppose that does make sense…” Castiel admitted, slightly reluctantly.

“Of course it does!” Crowley snapped. “And it’s not like I have to run all my decisions by you boys, either. But if an explanation is what it will take to get you to leave me alone – the weight of Hell is a lot to bear for one demon, I needed someone to lighten the load.”

Dean shrugged. “Makes sense.” He caught his brother’s eyes and mouthed the word, ‘lonely.’

Sam rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the phone. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Because I’m smart,” Crowley replied easily. “And I know that lying to you now will only make it that much worse when you inevitably learn the truth.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the phone. Subtle. He fought the urge to hang up right then and there, but that would definitely be suspicious. His and Sam’s relationship had actually improved significantly over the past couple of months, and things were pretty much back to normal between them; he didn’t want anything to mess that up. Even though he knew Crowley was right, he wasn’t about to upset the peace just to make the inevitable fallout not _quite_ as bad as it would otherwise be.

So, he listened to Sam conceding that it sounded like Crowley was being honest, Castiel agreeing with him, and Crowley saying that he had to go take care of business with the Contra. He hung up the phone without a word and then turned to his brother and best friend, playing the well-practiced role of the human Dean Winchester, knowing that the first chance he got, he’d be slipping away and going to help Crowley.


	5. An Issue of Trust

Crowley looked up from the paperwork he was reading through as Dean entered the throne room, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked without preamble.

Dean stopped, raising his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“The Djinn. You really expect me to believe he didn’t know anything?”

“No, but I had to tell Sam-”

“So, what _did_ you learn?” he interrupted.

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s with the interrogation?” he snapped defensively.

“You find out that the Contra is possibly the greatest threat to Hell since _you_ ,” Crowley said, rising to his feet and walking forward. “And then you kill our only lead.”

Dean looked away.

“I’m waiting for you to say something that will clear all this up,” Crowley continued after a few seconds.

He sighed. “He was with the Contra – he knew about me.” His tone was defeated as he turned back to the other demon. “He said he’d talk, but only to Sam. I was gonna torture him, see if I could break him, but Sam was coming back into the room. I didn’t have time.”

He looked at him through narrowed eyes; his face was expressionless, but Dean could feel the anger radiating off of him. “You didn’t have time?” he repeated slowly.

“Hey, there’s no guarantee he would’ve told me anything!”

“I’ve seen you at work, Dean. There’s every guarantee. But now I have to spend the time hunting down _another_ member of the top-secret organization, get all the information from them that you could have gotten today, and hopefully by then it won’t be too late to stop them. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy.”

He started to turn away, but Dean took a step forward. “Woah, hang on. I’m here to help.”

“How very generous of you,” he said silkily as he turned back to him. “Unfortunately, I can’t trust your priorities right now.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! You knew when you offered me the job that I’d always put Sam first.”

“Yes, but that’s not what you did,” he argued sharply. “If your brother’s life had been in danger, I wouldn’t say anything of it. But it wasn’t, was it? The choice you made wasn’t for him, for his protection, it was for you, so you wouldn’t have to face his judgement.”

“So? You know Sam can’t find out-”

“Why not?” Crowley demanded. “You can’t keep up the lie forever. Sam is going to find out one of these days, it’s inevitable. I understood it in the beginning – the two of you had some kinks to work through, you wanted him to see you were still you, etcetera. Well, here we are, and not only are you still keeping it secret from him, but you’re jeopardizing our reign to do so. So, yes Dean, I do believe that your priorities are askew when you choose risking us losing our thrones over being honest with your brother.”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it,” Dean snapped.

“It’s becoming less simple every bloody day! When he finds out that not only are you a demon, but you’ve been lying about it for months-”

“He’ll never talk to me again either way, so what’s it matter?” he nearly shouted before he took a deep breath, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck off, Crowley. You don’t want my help, then _fine._ I’ll just go await orders, since apparently, I’m no better than any other demon.”

He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Instead of turning right towards the exit, though, he turned left, walking deeper into the building. He couldn’t go back to the bunker now – he had told Sam that he’d be out all night, and he just didn’t have the energy for more lies tonight. But where else was he supposed to go? This was his home away from home, the one place he could be himself, and even after arguing with Crowley, he didn’t want to leave.

The only thing he _did_ want to do was get drunk, so he made his way to the lounge and grabbed Crowley’s most expensive bottle of Scotch. He poured himself a glass, but kept the bottle close by as he collapsed onto the couch and started downing it, refusing to give himself a chance to think about what had just happened. Thinking would only make things worse, so he focused on the burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat and let everything else fade away.

Most of the bottle was gone, and being a demon was no longer standing in the way of Dean’s drunkenness, by the time the door to the lounge opened. Dean looked up to see Crowley blinking at him in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you were still here,” the king said as he stepped slowly into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Dean shrugged. “Gonna kick me out?”

“Of course not.” He walked over and picked up the bottle, frowning at the depleted contents, then poured himself a glass. He sat down on the other side of the couch, sipping on his drink until the glass was half-empty. “I tried calling you,” he finally said.

Frowning, Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the _‘3 Missed Calls’_ displayed on the screen. “Huh. Didn’t hear.” His phone must still have been on silent from the hunt – you only let your phone ring while sneaking up on a monster once.

He sighed. “I figured you were just ignoring me.”

He shrugged. “Fair guess. Probably would’ve.” He looked over at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why’d you even call?”

Crowley said nothing for several seconds. “I was worried about you,” he finally said, looking straight ahead.

“What, worried that I was going to – to… screw things up for you?”

“No,” he said exasperatedly. “Worried about your wellbeing.”

Dean shrugged again. “I’m fine.”

He looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “Are you? Because you’ve drunk nearly 20 ounces of Scotch in one sitting.”

“So what? I’m a demon. I can do that.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you _should.”_

He snorted. “Like I care about that.” He reached to pour himself another glass, but his hand closed around air as the bottle vanished from the table. “Hey!” he shouted, his gaze snapping over to glare at Crowley.

“You’ve had enough.”

“You won’t let me do my job, you won’t let me drink, you won’t let me…” He screwed up his face, trying to think of a third thing. “not be lectured.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He fixed him with a hard gaze that only wavered slightly. “If you don’t… you don’t want me here, you don’t trust me-”

“Dean-”

“Find a new prince. You aren’t, you know, stuck with me.”

Crowley fixed him with a glare. “What makes you think I want a new prince?”

“Well, you… last time I didn’t live up to your expectations, or whatever, you tossed me to the curb.”

“I didn’t-” He shook his head irritably. “I handed you over to your brother to be _cured_ because you weren’t yourself. What else was I supposed to do? Let you run amok, killing and fucking everything in sight?”

“Yeah, but now you’re pissed, and-”

“Bloody hell, Dean, of course I’m pissed. That doesn’t mean I want a new prince. But you’re making stupid decisions when Sam’s involved – not that that’s anything new – but you need to take a step back.”

Dean blinked at him, taking a couple seconds to process that. “Oh.”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Is that what was bothering you?”

He looked down at his lap. “Everything’s bothering me,” he muttered. He set his glass down and pivoted to lay down on his side, his calves propped up on Crowley’s lap. “I’m gonna sleep it off.”

Crowley looked down at him for a few seconds. “I do have a bed, you know. You’re welcome to use it.”

Dean looked up at him in surprise. Was Crowley inviting him to _bed?_ Well, with the way that Crowley normally acted around him, he supposed that wasn’t really all that surprising. Dean had just figured that if Crowley was going to make a move on him, he would’ve done it by now – Crowley wasn’t exactly a slow mover. But hey, the only reason why Dean hadn’t made a move himself was because he had figured that there was some reason why Crowley hadn’t – that and he didn’t want to end up like all the other demons Crowley slept with. But those worries weren’t at the forefront of his mind right now, and after that fight, he could really go for some make-up sex.

Dean swung his legs around and got to his feet, catching himself on the couch as he nearly toppled over. “Lead the way.”

Crowley finished off his glass then rose, much more gracefully, to his feet. He put his hand on the taller man’s shoulder and guided him through the door, out into the corridor.

“I can walk, you know,” Dean protested.

“You could hardly manage standing. I let go of you, and you won’t make it more than two steps before falling on your face.”

“Wanna bet?” he pushed his hand away and stumbled forward, managing to make it five steps before he caught himself on the wall. “Hah! See?”

“Yes, you have proven me wrong,” Crowley said dryly. He rolled his eyes as he took hold of Dean’s arm and steadied him. _“Now_ will you let me help?”

“Sure.” He leaned into Crowley’s side as they walked down the hall.

Crowley’s room was on the third floor and down a couple of long, deserted hallways. His room itself was lavishly decorated in deep red and black, and of all the rooms that Dean had seen in the building, it was the one that looked the least like it was in an old asylum. They were walking through the doorway when Crowley spoke again.

“You do know that, even if for whatever reason you were no longer Prince of Hell, I wouldn’t replace you.”

Dean stopped, turning to look at him. “Why not?”

“Dean, you didn’t fill a position,” he said as though it should be obvious. “I created it _for you._ There’s no one else I’d want.”

He sucked in a breath, and then he wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. Somehow he and Crowley were standing face-to-face, and then they were kissing. Dean figured that he must have been the one to initiate the kiss because for a few seconds, Crowley was frozen in shock before he eagerly returned the pressure of Dean’s lips. He had one hand wrapped around Crowley’s tie and the other on his waist, and he used that to back up towards the bed, pulling Crowley along with him. Thankfully, it was just a couple steps before the backs of Dean’s legs collided with the mattress and he sank down. He attempted to pull Crowley down with him, but the other demon had frozen again, looking down at him almost as if he were in pain.

“Dean…”

“C’mon,” he urged, tugging on his tie.

Crowley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re drunk,” he said through gritted teeth.

“So?” He slid his leg between Crowley’s, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. “I have drunken sex all the time. So do you.”

“But you’re _different,”_ he ground out. “Things can’t become awkward between us. We work too closely together-”

Dean’s hands fell away from Crowley, his smile fading. So that was why Crowley had never tried anything before – Dean _was_ different, but it wasn’t because he meant something to him, it was because they worked so closely together that Crowley couldn’t risk things becoming awkward – just like they did between him and every other demon he slept with. Here he had been so hopeful that he was different because he _mattered,_ but it was only because of his fucking position.

“Yeah. Right,” he muttered as he drew away from the other demon. “I think I’m just gonna go.”

Mild alarm flickered over Crowley’s face. “Dean, you shouldn’t tele-” But it was too late.

He had been trying to teleport back to the bunker, but instead he landed face-down in a mud puddle because apparently today hadn’t been bad enough. He looked up and took in his surroundings, but nothing looked familiar. He did see a motel, though, so that was something. He managed to get unsteadily to his feet and then over to the building. Peering into the closest window, the room appeared to be vacant, so he unlocked the door – or rather, broke the lock – with a snap of his fingers and stumbled into the room, collapsing onto the bed. He could figure the rest out tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to pass out into oblivion.


	6. Lies

One good thing about being a demon was that you didn’t get hangovers. Then again, if Dean did have a hangover, then at least he would have something to focus on other than what had happened between him and Crowley yesterday. As irritating as it had been feeling the sexual tension between them and wondering if anything would ever come of it, it had definitely been better than _this._

On the one hand, Crowley definitely wanted to sleep with him, there was no denying that. But you couldn’t just mess around with someone you worked closely with – that was a recipe for disaster. Of course, if it wasn’t just messing around, if Crowley actually felt something for him… but that clearly wasn’t the case. What had he been thinking? He was an anomaly, the one demon out there capable of developing real, meaningful feelings for someone; of course Crowley would never feel the same.

When he rolled out of bed and checked his phone, he saw that he had five missed calls as well as a text from Crowley that simply said, ‘Call me.’

He sighed, dread pooling in his stomach, but he forced himself to relax as he pressed the call button. “What?” he asked as soon as Crowley picked up, not even giving him a chance to say anything.

Crowley hesitated for a half-second. “Are you alright?”

“You’ve been asking me that a lot lately, you know that? And guess what, I’m still fine. And I’ll be even better if we could _not_ talk about last night. Like you said, best to avoid any awkwardness between us, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s the best way to-”

“Well, I am. I was drunk, I was _clearly_ not thinking clearly, and I’d really rather not think about it now. If you want a thank you for stopping things from getting worse – sure, yeah, thanks.” That should do the job of convincing him that it was just a drunken mistake.

There were a couple seconds of silence on the other end of the line. “Well, if that’s all it was, then… good.”

“Sure was,” he said, ignoring the stab of pain that came with Crowley words. Holy shit, what was his problem? This should not be hurting him as badly as it was.

“Alright, then. Are you coming in today?” Crowley asked, back to business.

“I don’t think so.” _Not today or any other day, so long as I can avoid it._ Just because he was Prince of Hell, it didn’t mean he had to work right at Crowley’s side all the time, right? And clearly, he could use some distance. “I think I need to spend more time hunting – maybe I’ll be able to find more people in the Contra, learn more about what all creatures they have on payroll.”

“Is this about what I said yesterday?”

“No. I just figure, this way you’re investigating them internally from the throne, and I’m investigating externally as a hunter. We’re coming at them from both sides.” It honestly wasn’t a bad plan, either; even if he was just doing it to avoid Crowley.

“I suppose you have a point,” he said slowly.

“Course I do. I’ll keep you posting on what I find.”

* * *

 

It had been a couple months of Dean being pretty much back to his old way of life, with the exception of the fact that Crowley was calling him progressively more frequently. He kept trying to get him to come help with the internal operations of Hell, but more often than not Dean was able to come up with some kind of excuse: “Sorry man, I’m in the middle of a hunt. I mean, if it’s super pressing, I can try to come up with some kind of excuse, but I don’t really wanna leave Sam on his own here.” “Yeah, I think I can get away. Let me just – oh hang on, Sam’s calling me……. Sam’s in trouble, I gotta go!” “Oh, hey there Julie…. Of course. How could I forget you?... You know, I would _love_ to see you again, but my brother is currently giving me the look of ‘if you run off in the middle of this oh so important conversation, I will murder you’, so maybe next time?” At least Crowley’s reaction to the last one had been amusing.

On the bright side, it was clear that Sam was glad that the two of them were spending more time together again.

“Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve done this,” Sam said as they relaxed by the lake they had driven to that day, a cooler full of beer between them.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said guiltily. “Sorry, I just…”

“Needed some space. I get it. Glad to be back to normal, though.”

Dean nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Me too.” And it was nice to have things be closer to normal with Sam again. He hadn’t realized just how much time he had been spending hiding out at Crowley’s. Things felt so good that he almost told Sam the truth right then and there because _surely_ he’d understand. But then he remembered that it didn’t matter how much Sam liked spending time with him, he would never just accept that his brother was a demon. If he told him, he’d lose him, and now he didn’t even have Crowley to turn to if that happened.

So, he continued on with the lies – the lies to Sam and Castiel about being human, the lies to Crowley about how he was just too busy to see him – and it felt like a part of him was missing. But honestly, when hadn’t he felt like that? Even when things had been good with Crowley, he’d been avoiding his family. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have it all.

At least he had gotten better at hiding the fact that he was a demon. Unfortunately, even his superb acting skills might not be enough to keep up the lie while working this latest case with his brother.

“We’re sure the demon lives here?” Dean asked, looking up at the house apprehensively. What would the demon do when he saw him? What would he _say?_

“He’s got to,” Sam said. “All signs point to it.”

“Alright.” He nodded, thinking fast. “Maybe I should go in first, scope out the place. You keep watch out here.”

“What if he’s home?”

“I’ll shout,” he said with a shrug.

Sam shook his head. “No way. I’m coming with you.”

Dammit. Sam was already walking up the steps, so Dean had no choice but to follow after him. Maybe he’d be able to knock Sam out and blame it on the demon they were hunting. He shook his head, unable to believe that he was seriously considering that.

The knot in Dean’s stomach began the loosen slightly as they looked in the first few rooms of the house and saw that there was no sign of the demon. “I don’t think he’s home,” he muttered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded in agreement as he reached inside his jacket. “We should search the place more thoroughly. Maybe we can find out if he’s working alone.” He pulled out a can of spray paint and started drawing a devil’s trap by the back door.

“Hey, let me know where all you draw those,” he said, forcing his voice to be casual. “So that I know where to lead him if he comes home.”

“Sure thing.”

Well, that was really all he could do about it. He set to searching the living room, hoping that the demon wouldn’t show up behind him, causing Sam to throw holy water on them both.

He was about a half hour into his search when he heard Sam calling him. He followed the sound of his voice to the back room.

“Hey, you should take a look at this,” Sam said when he appeared in the doorway.

He took a step forward – and couldn’t move. Dread filling him once again, he slowly looked down to see the devil’s trap he was standing just inside of. _Dammit._ How the hell was he going to get out of this one? “What’d you find?” he asked to buy himself some time, panicking internally.

He held up a piece of paper. “This letter mentions the Contra.”

Of course it did. Because the demon certainly wasn’t acting on Hell’s orders, and of course it couldn’t be just one rogue demon, it had to be the organization that hated him and Crowley and had set out to destroy them both. “Suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, I guess not.” Sam frowned slightly. “You just gonna stand over there?”

“Uh, yeah.” He turned back towards the hall slightly, motioning behind him. “I thought I heard something, and…” Didn’t Crowley once break a devil’s trap with the demon blade? If he could get Sam to hand it to him, maybe he could make it look like he accidently dropped it, breaking the trap. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all, right? But it was his best shot – probably his only shot. “Hey, give me the-”

Suddenly, Sam was slammed against the wall. He dropped to the floor and the demon knife flew from his hand, in the opposite direction of Dean. Dean’s head whipped to the side and he saw Jethro standing in the other doorway that he had been too distracted to notice before, a broad smirk plastered across his face. “Now this _is_ funny,” the demon said gleefully.


	7. Reasons Why

Dean cursed himself silently. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied trying to find a way out of the devil’s trap, maybe he would’ve noticed Jethro’s entrance – been able to warn Sam before he got the drop on him. He had known that there could’ve been a demon showing up at any second, but he had been too worried about keeping up appearances. Crowley had been right, he didn’t have his priorities straight. And none of it had mattered because Sam was going to find out everything now.

Sam was pushing himself up, but he had the disadvantage of having been caught off guard, and Jethro got to him first.

“Dean!” Sam gasped as the demon gripped his throat and slammed him into the wall again.

Even though he knew it was useless, Dean couldn’t help but struggle to step outside the devil’s trap. He slammed his hand against the invisible barrier angrily. “Dammit, Jethro!” he growled. “You let him go right now, or I’ll-”

“You’ll _what,_ exactly?” Jethro sneered over his shoulder.

He could see his brother looking at him incredulously in his peripheral vision, but he refused to take his gaze off the other demon. Then he saw Sam’s eyes widen as his gaze slid down to the devil’s trap, then slowly back up to Dean’s face.

“The illustrious prince, stuck in a devil’s trap,” Jethro continued. “You aren’t so scary now.”

Sam used his momentary distraction to kick out at him, gaining the upper hand. Jethro stumbled back a couple steps and his gaze whipped back to Sam.

Jethro was right, there wasn’t much Dean could do from inside a devil’s trap. There was one thing he could do, though. As soon as the demon’s attention was no longer on him, he quickly pulled out his phone and texted his location to Crowley, praying that he would come. He shoved the device hastily back into his pocket just in time to see Jethro beat Sam to the knife, pressing it against his throat.

“Jethro.” He stood at the edge of the devil’s trap, his black eyes fixed on the other demon, his rage echoing in every syllable he spoke. “If you were smart, you’d drop the knife right now.”

Jethro rolled his eyes at him as he maneuvered Sam to stand between them, the knife digging into his throat enough to make him flinch. “Do you really think I’m going to quiver in fear?” he demanded. “You’re trapped! There’s nothing you can do to me!”

“You’re right. Now. But let’s say you kill Sam. What then? You can’t kill me – I’m a Knight of Hell. But this trap won’t hold me forever, and when I get out, wherever you are, I _will_ find you. And then you’ll realize that the rack really wasn’t so bad, after all.”

Dean saw his confidence falter, the fear flicker in his eyes, but it was only for a second. “I’m not in this alone. The entirety of the Contra stands behind me, and together we’ll be able to find a way to contain you. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before we take over Hell, and then it will be even easier to keep you out of our way.”

“Yeah. Because it’s worked out so well for everyone else that’s gone up against me.”

“Your lucky streak has to end one of these days, Winchester.”

He gave a small shrug. “Maybe. But do you _really_ want to risk it? I mean, it’s one thing for you to imprison me, then I break out and kill you. But you imprison me _and_ kill Sam, when I break out – and I promise you, I _will_ break out – you’ll wish you were dead. So, maybe you’re right and you can keep me contained, but on the likely chance that you’re wrong, you should probably go with the less risky option.”

“You mean leave your brother alive so that he can rescue you?”

“That thing’s not my brother,” Sam spat. “I don’t rescue demons.” Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was just playing along or not, but either way it felt like he’d just been slapped in the face.

“No, we just rescue you.” Crowley appeared in the center of the room, just behind the two of them. “Hello, Jethro. I don’t remember stationing you here.” A sense of relief washed through Dean at the sight of him, and his eyes returned to their usual green.

Terror flashed across Jethro’s face as he looked back at his king, and Sam seized the opportunity to twist in his grip, grabbing the knife back from him. He spun around, the knife coming to point at the demon’s chest.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jethro said hurriedly, backing away from Sam. “Dean’s not loyal to you! He was trying to stop me from-”

“Do you really think he’s going to buy that?” Dean cut him off.

Crowley’s eyes flickered briefly to him, then back to the other demon.

“It would explain why he’s been avoiding you, sir,” Jethro pressed.

“I suppose it would.” Crowley turned to Dean with an amused tilt of his mouth that assured him he didn’t buy Jethro’s lies for a second. “Well Dean, it seems that you can clear this all up by simply saying why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the devil’s trap. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“No? For the past two months-”

“Ever since you stopped avoiding me,” Sam noted, his voice and expression unreadable.

“Hey now, I don’t need you two ganging up on me,” Dean said defensively. “Just because I wasn’t spending as much time with you, doesn’t mean I was avoiding you. Same goes for you, Crowley.”

“He’s lying!” Jethro said urgently.

Crowley rolled his eyes as his gaze returned to him. “I know he’s lying. And so are you.” He grabbed him and yanked him to his side. “I’m just going to get him situated, then I’ll be back to see what goodies he has hidden here.” He teleported away, leaving Dean alone with his brother.

His eyes flickered to Sam then quickly away again, the tension in the room palpable. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he decided that he couldn’t stand it any longer. He sighed, his eyes moving to where Sam stood at the desk, looking through the paperwork there. “You gonna let me out of here?”

Sam turned to look at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to think right now, Dean. You’re still a demon.”

“Yeah,” he nodded because he didn’t know what else to say.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t get it. Cas said you were cured.”

“Cas could tell that the cure had had some kind of effect on me – he didn’t know how much, so he just assumed I was cured.”

“But you weren’t. And you let us think you were. Why? Is this some kind of game, or-or are you spying on us-?”

“What? No!”

“You could’ve just run off again.”

“But I didn’t want to!” He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. “Crowley thinks that since I couldn’t be cured, the cure just gave me back my humanity,” he explained tiredly. “And with how I feel… that sounds about right. I’m still a demon, but I’m _me_ again. I thought that – with time – you’d see that.”

“Did Crowley know you couldn’t be cured?” Sam demanded. “Is that why he handed you over?”

“No. He was shocked when he realized.”

“But not disappointed.”

Dean shook his head. “No.”

“And so you became Prince of Hell. And then you looked me in the eyes and swore to me that you had no idea who the prince could be, that you didn’t even know one existed.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “I just… I couldn’t tell you.”

“Because Crowley told you not to?” he pressed.

He hesitated before shaking his head again. “No,” he admitted. “Crowley told me to tell you.”

Sam blinked, then scoffed. “So the lies were all you, then.”

“I couldn’t! I just… when you thought I was cured, you were so happy, so relieved. I couldn’t tell you that I’d always be a demon. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You couldn’t what? Be honest?”

“I know it’s a stupid excuse, but it’s the truth. I thought that maybe, once you realized I really was myself again, I could tell you, and maybe it would all be okay, but…”

“But you never did. Things have been back to what I thought was normal for a while now, and you haven’t told me anything.”

Dean looked down, trying to figure out how to word the explanation that he had never even really been able to explain to himself. “Back before I became a demon, after I took on the Mark of Cain, I could feel the Mark changing me,” he finally began, looking up at him. “I couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but I knew it was bad. Crowley said that it was driving me to kill, and that trying to control it would kill me. But I met Cain – he was living a peaceful retirement. Because he was a demon, he was strong enough to control the Mark. He just needed the right incentive.” He took a deep breath. “You’re my incentive, Sam. I couldn’t risk losing you. Without you, I don’t know what I’d become.”

Sam took a few seconds to process that before he looked up at him, pain in the lines of his face. “So what happens when I’m gone?”

“Don’t say that,” he said desperately, his voice breaking.

“There’s no avoiding it, Dean. You’re a Knight of Hell – you can’t die. But I will. So what happens then?”

Dean was silent. He didn’t know what to say because he honestly didn’t know what would happen. He had never exactly held it together whenever Sam had died in the past. Now that he was a demon with the Mark of Cain, would that be enough to make him snap?

“Nothing.”

Dean looked to the side to see that Crowley had reappeared in the room. Sam’s eyes narrowed as his gaze landed on him.

“Cain held it together after he lost what’s-her-name, and Dean is a thousand times stronger than him. He’ll be just fine. Besides, he’ll have me to keep an eye on him.” He shot Dean a smirk, which he returned with a small, grateful smile.

“Keep an eye on him?” Sam repeated doubtfully. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all you’ll do. You _wanted_ him to feed the Mark-”

“Back when he couldn’t control it, yes! Because otherwise it would have driven him insane. Personally, I didn’t particularly want a murder-hungry Knight of Hell running around.”

“Right, bad for business, you said. But maybe things would be different if he fed the Mark now.”

“I don’t bloody care! That’s not what I’m interested in. I just want _him.”_

If the outburst surprised Sam, it didn’t show on his face. “As Prince of Hell, right?” he asked levelly.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked the same question that Dean had asked all those months ago, sitting at the bar.

Crowley just glared at him for a few seconds. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Crowley,” Dean said reasonably. “He’s just gonna think you have something to hide, if you refuse.” Besides, he still wanted that answer himself.

He turned his glare on him before he sighed irritably, turning back to Sam. “I could give you a thousand reasons why – demons are terrified of him, he’s a good strategist, an excellent torturer – having him ruling by my side secures my throne more than any other move I could ever make.”

It made sense. Except that he had no reason not to say that. Dean shook his head. “There’s more to it than that.”

Crowley appeared to seethe angrily for a moment before he turned, fixing Dean with a cool glare. “Alright, you want the truth? None of those things matter. The only thing I have ever wanted is you by my side.”

Dean suddenly found himself wishing that Crowley wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure what his expression was doing, but he was sure he didn’t like it. “Wh-Why?” he stammered.

“I just do,” he sighed, then continued more firmly, striding forward to stand just outside the devil’s trap. “Now – assuming your brother is done with the accusations – I would still like to know why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I told you I’m not-”

“Then what _would_ you call ignoring my texts and finding any and every excuse to get away whenever I call?”

“I just…” His eyes slid past him to where Sam was frowning at them both. “Do we have to have this conversation now?” he asked, a pleading note to his voice.

“Right now is the only time I know you aren’t going to run away from me.”

Sam threw up his arms. “Okay, you know what? You two talk. I need to clear my head.” He turned on his heel and stalked out the door.

“Sam!” Dean called after him before he sighed, turning back to Crowley. “Don’t suppose you’re gonna let me out of here?”

“Not a chance. So, is it because I said you were making poor decisions? Or because of the kiss?”

He turned away from him, glaring at the wall. He didn’t see that he had a whole lot of options here but to tell the truth. “More the latter than the former,” he admitted reluctantly.

Crowley sighed. “Well, might I remind you that _you_ are the one who kissed _me._ I can hardly be blamed for kissing you back.”

Dean blinked, looking at him in surprise. “I’m not upset that you kissed me back.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised, and slightly confused. “Then why are you upset?” he demanded.

“Because…” He could feel his cheeks heating up. “I just figured that if I kissed you, things would go differently,” he muttered, looking away again.

He was silent for a few seconds. “Different how?” he finally asked slowly.

“That maybe it might fucking mean something to you!” he snapped, glaring at him. “I see the way you treat the demons you sleep with, Crowley, and I don’t want to be like them! And I thought – for a second – that maybe I’d be different. But then you said that things would get to awkward! Just like every other _fucking_ demon-”

“I thought you only kissed me because you were drunk!” Crowley shouted, taking a step forward. “I didn’t want you to think I’d taken advantage of you. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to take you right there, but it wasn’t worth screwing up any possible future I had with you!”

That brought Dean up short. “You… What do you mean future with me?” he asked slowly. “You mean… as Prince of Hell?”

“That was never all I wanted from you.” His voice was calm again, but his expression was still heated. “I just figured you as my prince would make a good starting point.”

He shook his head slightly. “So, why’d you go about sleeping with all those demons?”

“To make you jealous,” he said as though it should be obvious.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, it worked,” he muttered.

“Too well, apparently.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked down, noticing for the first time that Crowley had stepped into the devil’s trap during his rant. “Well… looks like we’re stuck in here together till Sam gets back.”

Crowley’s eyes sparkled. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?”

Which was how, several minutes later, Dean found himself pressed up against the side of the devil’s trap, Crowley’s mouth insistent on his, when the invisible wall suddenly gave way and they tumbled to the floor, Crowley landing on top of him.

“What the-” Dean muttered, but the question was answered as he glanced over to see Sam rising from a crouch where he had stooped to scrape away part of the devil’s trap. There was disgust in his expression, but there was also mild amusement there, too.

“Thanks for the warning, moose,” Crowley grumbled as he got to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Dean up.

“I did try to get your attention, actually.” Sam ran a hand uncomfortably over the back of his neck as he looked between the two of them. “Guess you two worked everything out.”

“What about us?” Dean asked hopefully. “Are we good?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. This is a lot to take in, Dean. Let’s just… focus on the Contra right now.”

“I thought you were gonna leave that up to Hell. Only get involved if it came up in a case.”

“That was before I knew everything. Now, I’m going to stop them. And I figure we have a much better shot at doing that working together than separately.”

Dean was about to protest, but before he could open his mouth, Crowley clapped his hands together. “Well then. I believe we have a demon to interrogate.”


	8. The Contra

It took just 10 minutes under Dean and Crowley’s ministrations before Jethro started talking. He told them all about the Contra’s goal, what all creatures they had recruited, and even listed the names of several of their members. Dean was sure that he was telling the truth, but he was also sure that the truth he was telling was very calculated. He had seen it often enough in people being tortured – they’d hold out just long enough to be believable, then they would start spilling worthless information that wouldn’t do their torturer any good. Dean and Crowley already knew the Contra’s goal, they could guess at the creatures, and he was pretty confident that every name that Jethro listed off were pretty useless members that they’d be happy to be rid of.

“Who else?” Dean asked casually.

“We-We don’t know who all-” Jethro stammered.

“Of course not.” He nodded with an amused grin, then with a flick of his wrist brought the knife across his chest, peeling off a layer of skin. “But I’m sure you know who’s in charge.”

The sound of the door opening caused Dean to glance back over his shoulder in time to see Sam slip out of the room. He turned back to Jethro. “You think on that. Mind holding this?” He drove the knife into his throat with a smile before turning away. “Be right back,” he muttered to Crowley as he passed by him on his way to the door.

He found Sam in the throne room just outside, leaning against the wall. “Probably not a good idea for you to wander around here without me or Crowley with you. Some demon might see you and think you broke in. Of course, their under orders not to hurt you, but they aren’t really the best listeners.”

Sam nodded without looking at him. “I’ll be on my guard.”

Dean sighed, trying to read Sam’s expression. “What’s up?”

He gave a small laugh that sounded more sad than anything, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

He frowned. “See what?”

“You were _enjoying_ that,” the words fell from his mouth as he finally looked at him. “Like, _really_ enjoying that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably. “I’ve always-”

“No, not like this. I’ve seen you torture before, Dean. This was different.”

He looked down with a sigh. “I’m not saying I’m not a little different, Sammy. Demon instincts was what Crowley called it – only, I have my humanity to rein it in, so it doesn’t shape who I am like it does with most demons.” He looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. “You didn’t see me when I was in Hell, Sam. As soon as I picked up that knife… I didn’t want to enjoy it, but I did. And I was still human then, even if I was dead. Since then, every time I’ve carved into anyone, I’m back there again. Until now.” He shrugged at Sam’s curious look. “I don’t know why. Maybe being a demon excuses it for me, so I don’t have to feel guilty about it. Maybe I just feel less guilty about things in general. I don’t know.”

Sam opened his mouth, but at that moment the door to the throne room opened and a demon by the name of Beatrice walked in.

“Oh. Sorry, sir.” She stopped halfway across the room, looking between Dean and his brother. “I didn’t realize…”

“You’re fine, Beatrice,” Dean assured her. “Sam’s just helping Crowley and me out with something. What did you need?”

“Crowley asked me to run some diagnostics on all of our divisions to see how business is in comparison to previous years,” she explained hurriedly.

 _Smart,_ Dean thought. _See where they’re hitting us._

“He wanted this weeks ago,” she continued nervously, her words rushing together. “But it’s a very time-consuming process checking every single division, and then comparing the data with not just last year, but the last several years, and-”

“Beatrice,” he said in a calming tone. “You’re good. Just show me what you’ve got. I’ll take care of explaining to Crowley why it’s late.”

She nodded gratefully.

He turned back to Sam. “Mind telling Crowley where I’m going?”

“Sure.” Sam nodded before returning to the side room.

“Okay. To your office?”

He fell into step beside Beatrice as she exited the throne room and took off down the hall.

“So,” she began hesitantly after a minute of walking in silence. “Your brother knows now?”

“Yeah, well, we needed his help with something,” Dean said. He was always careful not to reveal to other demons how much of a relationship he still had with his brother. He knew they suspected, and it wasn’t as though they’d be any less afraid of him if they knew, but the less they knew, the better.

“What with?”

He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s not my place.”

“No, it’s not.” Again, the less they knew the better. Especially when it came to the Contra.

“Sorry,” she muttered again, her eyes fixed on the ground as she walked.

Dean sighed. At least she was respectful, unlike most demons. “Hey, it’s fine. I’d be curious too. But if it becomes something you need to know, you’ll know.”

She nodded, looking not quite as embarrassed as she turned into her office. She took a seat behind her desk and Dean sat across from her as she pushed some reports across the table to him. “I did notice several areas that have been steadily declining over the past few months, well beyond anything we’ve seen in previous years,” she stated, becoming more confident as she went into her business mode.

“When did the declines start?” he asked, glancing up from the paperwork.

“October.”

“All of them?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Definitely sounded like Contra. October… so about eight months ago. Around the same time he had become Prince. Well, he supposed it wasn’t all that surprising that he had incited a rebellion. “Alright, what areas?” he asked, turning his attention back to the reports in front of him.

She launched into her analysis on the performance of each division, explaining how bad the decline was, potential causes, and of course adding how odd it was that there seemed to be no correlation between all the declines. As she spoke, Dean’s frown deepened. He couldn’t help but notice that none of the areas she listed seemed like they’d be prime targets for the Contra. And another thing… she didn’t mention crossroads deals, which Dean knew for a _fact_ was being affected by the Contra’s work.

But Beatrice was the best of the best. There was no way she would present him with a report without first ensuring it was accurate. Unless…

He nodded as she concluded. “Thank you, Beatrice. I’m sure this’ll be a great help. And let us know if you think of any way someone might go about sabotaging these areas. You’re right, this is far too much of a coincidence.”

“Of course.”

He gave her a small smile as he rose to his feet, the report in his hand. “I should get back to Crowley. I’ll give him the cliff notes.”

He was sure to walk just quickly enough down the hall so that it was clear he had somewhere he had to be and didn’t have time to be stopped by every demon’s trivial complaints – as usual, it did the trick.

He walked back into the side room off of the throne room, letting the door shut behind him before he announced, “Beatrice is Contra.”

Crowley tore his gaze away from the bloody Jethro to look at him incredulously. _“Beatrice?”_

“Yep.” He slammed the report down on the table. “She just tried to send us on a wild goose chase, concentrating our efforts on all the wrong areas. According to her, crossroad deals are fine – exactly as projected. Meanwhile, the Contra is apparently targeting the efficiency of the torture in Hell.”

His frown now matched Dean’s. “The only thing that’s any good for is making more demons, and-”

“We have enough, as is. Yeah.”

He shook his head. “Beatrice,” he repeated in disbelief. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. Figured we could play along, let the Contra think they’re winning – we’ll find out more that way. After all, we know who to watch now.”

Crowley nodded. “Good plan.”

“She must be pretty important,” Sam suddenly spoke up. “For you to look so terrified right now.”

Dean and Crowley both spun around to look at Jethro, and indeed, he looked more terrified now than he had throughout all of the torture. Their eyes narrowed.

“What’s wrong, Jethro?” Dean taunted. “Suddenly not so sure you’re on the winning side?”

Jethro swallowed thickly. “Sh-She’s not-”

“She’s in charge, isn’t she?” Crowley interrupted, his voice sure. “And you know that if she finds out we found her out the same day we caught you… she’ll assume you told us. Even if you are on the winning side, there’s no way you’re making it out of this in one piece.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. He knew he had lost, there was no lie he could tell that could cover up the truth they had uncovered.

“So. There really is no harm in telling us more, now is there?” Crowley continued, his voice like silk.

A few hours and a lot of answers later, Sam and Dean transported Jethro to the bunker for safe keeping. They all decided that there was far too much risk of Beatrice finding Jethro if they left him at Crowley’s, and then their whole plan would be ruined.

“Thanks,” Dean said as they closed the dungeon door behind them. “You know, for helping us.”

Sam nodded, not quite looking at him. “Course.”

He hesitated, not sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question. “What made you change your mind? I mean, I know leaving the Contra to Crowley was my suggestion, but you seemed pretty eager to go along with it. Was it… was it because you were worried about me? Now that you know they’re trying to take me down, too?”

He shook his head as he turned to look at him. “No.”

Dean gave a small nod. Of course not. He knew he shouldn’t have asked.

“I don’t think they could do much to you,” he continued. “I’m not worried.”

“Oh,” he said, faint surprise in his tone. “So… why then?”

Sam shrugged, his eyes darting down. “I guess… this is your fight. And I feel wrong not fighting it with you.”

He gave a small, surprised smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

He sighed. “I still don’t know how I feel about all this. I mean, maybe if we tried the cure again…”

“I think it would kill me,” he said with confidence. “It really felt like it was going to last time.”

“But maybe-”

“Is it really worth the risk?” he demanded. “When I’m already me?”

He gave a small sigh. “Are you, though?”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean said firmly. “And you could see that if you actually looked. I swear, I haven’t been putting on a show for you these last few months. It’s all been real. I’m me.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I want to believe you, I just… it’s gonna take time.”

“I can wait.” He held his hands out, palm up, as though in invitation.

He managed a small smile. “Good. You, uh… staying here tonight?”

“Actually, I was thinking of going back to Crowley’s.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Because you two are…”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we’re… something, I guess.” He shrugged.

“And you’re sure that’s a good idea?”

He gave another shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. Guess I’ll find out. But hey, you’re not even convinced I have a heart to break anymore, so it’s not like it matters.”

Sam blinked. “I didn’t realize your heart was at risk,” he said slowly. “I figured you were just sleeping together.”

“We’re not even doing that, actually. Though, that’s probably changing tonight…”

“Wait.” He frowned at him, clearly adding up all of the interactions he had seen between Dean and Crowley that day. “Were you… were you avoiding Crowley because you _like_ him?” he asked incredulously.

Sometimes his brother knew him too well. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “He’s helped me through a lot recently. I don’t expect you to understand.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. But I will say this, you may have your humanity back, but Crowley doesn’t.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he said with a sigh, dropping his arms. He ran a hand over his face. “Well, I’d better go. See you tomorrow, Sammy.” And with that, he vanished.


	9. Confessions

By the time Dean got back to Crowley’s, the other demon was already in bed, reading some book with a Latin title – probably something like Evil 101. He knew that even though Crowley had a bed, he didn’t often use it – at least not for anything other than sex – so he must have been suspecting, or at least hoping, that Dean would be coming back. He smiled at that realization, even though the knot in his stomach didn’t lessen.

Crowley looked up when he heard his entrance, immediately putting the book aside. “Hello, love. How’s Samantha?”

Dean sighed as he walked over to the bed and collapsed beside him, face down. “Conflicted,” he muttered into the pillow.

“Give him time,” he said soothingly, stroking his hair. “He’ll come around.”

He looked up at him skeptically. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve spent years watching the two of you. You can never be apart for long.”

“Hmph.” He rolled onto his back. “Years watching us, huh? You learn anything else?”

“That you’re both too stubborn for your own good, reckless, always lining up for a chance to sacrifice yourself for each other or the world, whichever comes first.”

“Sounds about right.”

Crowley slid an arm around his waist as he leaned in close. “And that _you_ in particular are far more attractive than any flannel-clad hunter has a right to be.”

“That all?” he muttered, a tinge of sadness to his tone, as Crowley kissed his neck.

He drew back slightly, frowning at him. “Is there something wrong with saying you’re attractive?”

“No, I just…” He sighed irritably as he pushed himself into a sitting position, the other demon following suit. Crowley had said that he wanted him, why couldn’t he just take that and be happy? Why did he have to ask for something that he knew was impossible? “I’d like there to be more to this than that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying there’s not?”

“I mean…” He struggled for a second, but then all the words came pouring out in a flood. “We’re both demons, but I have my humanity, so I can actually feel love. I mean, I’m not saying I love you, but I’m capable of it. Actually, I’m not saying I _don’t_ love you either, but-”

“Dean-”

Dean hardly heard him. Besides, if he stopped now, he’d never be able to get it out. “That’s not really what I’m talking about here. It’s that I _can_ fall in love and have those legitimate, human feelings for you, or for anyone. But the cure didn’t work the same way on you. Sure, it gave you some taste of humanity, made you addicted to human blood to get more of it. But it manifested like a drug for you, teasing the idea of humanity without actually giving it to you. It wasn’t real. Besides, you’re no longer addicted, so that’s a moot point, anyway. The point is, you’re fully a demon – far more likeable than any other, but still not capable about all that human stuff. And knowing you, you wouldn’t want to be, either. So, you say you want a future with me, but I’m at risk of falling in love with you, and I don’t know what that’s going to look like.” He took a deep breath, feeling as though he had just run a marathon.

Crowley stared at him, his expression unreadable. “Would you like to know what else I learned from watching you?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“That you’re an utter moron who can’t see what’s right in front of you, and yet somehow you also manage to be one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. It’s impressive, just like most everything else about you. From the moment I met you, Dean, I was fascinated by you – I kept waiting for that sensation to go away, but it never did. Instead, I just became more and more drawn to you, even before I had my first taste of humanity. I don’t know how, I don’t know why; there’s just something about you, Dean Winchester. Sometimes I think that you could make the most twisted, heartless being in the universe feel something.”

He swallowed thickly. “What are you saying?” he asked slowly, afraid to hope, but unable to help himself.

“You may not know how you feel about me, but I know exactly how I feel about you. I love you, plain and simple.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realize he was holding. “Simple?” he found himself asking, unsure of what else to say.

Crowley gave a small smile. “Alright, not simple. But it should be obvious to anyone with eyes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Only you can manage to confess your love for me _and_ insult me in the same sentence.”

“I’m just talented that way.”

“And oh so humble, too.”

“Now, don’t go pushing it,” he warned. “It’s bad enough that I’m a demon who loves. I don’t need humility, too.”

Dean laughed. “Alright, sorry. I won’t ascribe any more good characteristics to you.”

“Good,” Crowley said, satisfied.

“And I was about to compliment you, too,” he sighed sadly as he folded his arms behind his head. “But that falls under the category of good characteristics, so I guess I’ll just refrain.”

“Well now, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself holding back praise for me-”

“Nah, it’s passed.” He turned his head to the side, smirking at him.

“Is this really how you respond to my confession of love?” he demanded. “Complaining and holding back compliments?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, his expression becoming more serious. “Well, what did you expect? I already told you I don’t know how I feel…”

“I know that. You could have at least thrown yourself at me, though.”

He shook his head. “Not really my style. You want me, come and get me.”

Something sparked in Crowley’s eyes and a second later, he was on top of Dean, pinning him to the bed. “I’d be careful about tempting me, darling,” he purred.

Crowley’s body pressed down against his in a way that, even as a Knight of Hell, Dean would have a hard time getting away from, and his eyes were dangerous. Dean hadn’t felt this excited in a long time.

He smiled up at him, a challenge in his eyes. “Give me a reason to be.”

* * *

 

Dean and Crowley headed over to the bunker around dinner time the next day to discuss with Sam what they had uncovered that day and to iron out their plan moving forward. Dean couldn’t say he was surprised when it was Castiel who answered the door – he had known that Sam would probably call him up and tell him everything as soon as he’d left the previous night.

“Hey, man,” Dean greeted him slightly awkwardly. “I guess Sam told you…”

“That you are still a demon?” Castiel finished for him. “Yes, he did. He also said that you claim to have your humanity back.”

“Well, I do,” he said matter-of-factly.

He looked at him curiously. “A demon with his humanity in tact is not something I’ve heard of before-”

“Well, there hasn’t been a case like Dean before,” Crowley cut in sharply.

Castiel looked at him and nodded. “Exactly.” He turned back to Dean with a small smile. “And I believe that your explanation makes the most sense with your slightly demonic appearance.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “So, you believe me?”

“I am still wary, of course, but yes, I am inclined to believe you.” His smile faded. “I just wish you had told Sam and me the truth.”

“Yeah well, announcing that I’m a demon isn’t really the easiest thing in the world.”

“I understand that, and it’s not particularly surprising that you hid it from us, but still...” He sighed as he stepped aside, allowing the demons to enter the bunker.

“Well, I gotta say, man,” Dean said as they made their way downstairs. “You believing me means a lot.”

“Sam will come around, too. I believe that on some level, he already believes you, he’s just having trouble processing it all.”

Crowley sat down in the chair at the head of the map table, materialized a bottle of Scotch in front of him, and poured himself a glass.

Dean rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Castiel. “Where is Sam, anyway?”

“He was checking in on the demon you captured. He should be along shortly.”

He nodded as he set the paper bag he was carrying down on the table and took the seat next to Crowley. Crowley poured a second glass of Scotch and pushed it in his directed.

“Want some, Cas?” Dean asked as the angel walked around and sat down across from him.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Sam entered the room a minute later and Crowley slid a fourth glass to the seat on the other side of Dean. “Have a seat, moose. How’s the house guest?”

“I think he feels pretty hopeless,” he said as he sat down.

“As he should.”

“Yeah, I mean, either he’s right and the Contra wins, then he has to face Beatrice’s wrath,” Dean said as he dug into the bag to retrieve the burgers and fries he had picked up, handing one meal to Sam, and placing the other in front of himself (Crowley refused to eat fast food). “Or there’s what’s _actually_ going to happen, the Contra is destroyed and then he has to face _us.”_

“What’d you find out today?” Sam asked as he unwrapped his burger and dug in.

“Nothing good,” Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. “We looked into all the areas Beatrice _didn’t_ warn us about, and it turns out the Contra has done even more damage than we thought.”

“But you know, when the person who runs all the logistics is plotting against you, I suppose we _wouldn’t_ know what areas are failing,” Dean added, shaking his head. “Look, I know we said we’ll watch Beatrice for now, see what moves she makes, but I think she’s closer to her endgame than we thought. I think we need to act now.”

“This was your idea,” he pointed out. “And I know Beatrice – she’ll reveal more going about her business than she would if we tortured her.”

“Well, that may be a risk we have to take. I mean, what more can she do to make us look like screwups? The next logical move for her is to take a shot at you, and I’m not letting that happen. I’d rather tear her apart right now and learn nothing than risk that.”

Crowley smiled at him. “Aw, how romantic.”

“Shut up. I’m serious here.” He glared at him, refusing to back down.

Sam cleared his throat. “Dean makes a fair point. I mean, you might be able to learn more about those closest to her in the Contra, but you already know what her tactics are, and Dean’s right, her next move is pretty obvious. She’ll show all demons that don’t already follow her how you’ve failed, then she’ll kill you, securing their support. The longer you wait, the greater the risk.”

Crowley thought it over for a minute. “Alright,” he finally decided. “Let’s take her down.”


	10. The Final Choice

Dean and Crowley entered Beatrice’s office, leaving Sam and Castiel standing guard outside, just in case.

Beatrice was sitting behind her desk, her fingers hammering away on the keyboard, looking every bit like the efficient worker Dean had always thought her to be. She looked up when they entered, closing the door behind them. “Your majesties.” Her eyes darted between the two of them. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, but you already know that,” Crowley said casually as they both walked over to sit down across from her. “Dean told me about your report.”

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, sir, it’s bad. I’m sorry, I-I should have noticed the signs sooner. It’s just that those were never areas that you had me pay particular attention to – not that I’m blaming you, of course!” she added hastily. “I still should have kept a closer eye on even the less imperative parts of Hell.”

“Perhaps. But we’re not here to punish you. I just wanted to discuss your findings with you. So many drops in so many areas…”

“I know, it almost seems as though – sorry, I don’t want to overstep myself.”

“Beatrice,” Dean said gently. “You’re not overstepping. We’d love to hear your opinion.”

“I mean, it’s so _systematic,_ and yet it’s not connected at all. Still, it all began…” She trailed off, looking at Dean guiltily.

He nodded. “Right after I became Prince.”

She nodded. “It almost makes it seem as though it might be protests.”

“Protests?” Crowley arched an eyebrow as he leaned forward slightly. “And what exactly do you think these protests might be leading to?”

“I mean, if they were in more important areas, I would say it could be a revolution in the works, but the areas we’re falling short in – while of course, we’ll still feel it – it’s not as though there will be a terrible impact on Hell as a whole. So, honestly… I think these could be just simple protests with no real plan beyond that.”

 _She’s good,_ Dean thought. “So, if you’re theory’s right, what do you think the best course of action is?”

“Investigate these areas, figure out who your protesters are. Even if they don’t have a bigger goal in mind, they’re still dangerous.”

He nodded as he got to his feet. “You mind pulling up the roster?” he asked, motioning at her computer.

She nodded, turning back to the screen.

“So, the big bad Contra we’ve been so worried about turns out to be just a group of protesters,” Crowley mused as Dean walked around behind Beatrice to see her screen.

“Yeah. There’s just one thing that doesn’t quite add up, though,” Dean muttered, watching Beatrice’s blank expression reflected in the screen.

“And what’s that?” He leaned back in his chair as though relaxed, but Dean could tell he was ready to spring into action any moment.

 “If they’re just protesting, why all the secrecy? Any ideas, Beatrice?”

“I’d imagine they’re afraid of you,” she said without looking away from the computer screen.

“Yeah, but protesting doesn’t do any good if we don’t know about it.”

“I mean, I suppose there’s a chance it could be more than that. I’m just saying that – just looking at the data – that seems the most likely.”

“And you’re sure your data is accurate?” Crowley asked innocently.

At that, she looked at him. “I-I double and triple checked, sir-”

“And you’re the best there is at your job,” Dean cut her off, his tone matter-of-fact. “There’s no way you’d make a mistake.”

She glanced up at him with a small, timid smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Which is why we know you’re lying.”

She did a convincing job of looking surprised, he’d give her that. “S-Sir?”

His eyes flickered to black as he wrapped his hand around her throat, holding her back against him. “I guess I shouldn’t say you’d never make a mistake – you made one.”

“You didn’t take into account what we might already know about the Contra,” Crowley continued, rising to his feet.

“I’d already caught a Djinn that said the Contra was having him sabotage crossroads deals – a division you said was a-okay. That was our first clue. Then there was Jethro. He filled in the rest of the gaps.”

Beatrice’s face had transformed. She no longer looked sweet and timid, she was livid, and Dean knew that if he hadn’t grabbed hold of her when he did, she would have been a force to be reckoned with.

“I trusted you, Beatrice,” Crowley said in a low voice colored with rage. “And you’re leading a revolution against me. Why?”

She glared up at him. “It was never about you,” she spat. “I mean, I didn’t like you, but I didn’t think you were bad enough to do anything drastic about. But then you went and appointed a _Winchester_ as Prince of Hell? And not even that, you didn’t even ask him to choose a side! He’s a hunter first and a demon second, every demon knows it. So, go ahead! Kill me, chain me up, whatever it is you’re going to do – it won’t make any difference! As long as Dean Winchester is at your side, the Contra has reason enough to live on.”

Dean stared down at her incredulously. “When I was appointed, you said that it could be _good_ for Hell!”

“And I meant it. Crowley hasn’t been a good king in a while, but like I said, he wasn’t bad enough to revolt against – not without someone like Abaddon leading the charge. But _you,_ you gave us something to stand against.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.”

She turned her head slightly to look Crowley in the eyes. “You can torture me all you want, I’ll never give you the names of the Contra. I care more for the sake of Hell than my own wellbeing!”

“I know,” Crowley said evenly. That was the problem with zealots, torture rarely did any good with them. “But you brought them together. Without you, they may very well fall apart.”

Dean felt her trying to shake her head, but his hand had tightened to the point that she couldn’t. “The only way that could ever happen is if you also got rid of Dean. Or if you made him choose. Hell won’t tolerate a prince that keeps one foot in his human life, but if he gave up being a hunter… well, it wouldn’t be enough for me, but it might be for the rest of them.”

Dean’s eyes faded to green as they flickered to Crowley nervously. He wouldn’t ask that of him, would he? But Beatrice would never give them names, and so the Contra was going to remain a threat to Crowley’s reign if he didn’t do something about it. He may not have a choice. But Dean couldn’t make that choice. He knew that he lived two vastly different lives, but they were both _his life._ The past while that he’d been avoiding Crowley had been Hell, like a part of him was missing, and he felt the same way whenever he went too long without hunting, without seeing his brother. There was no way he could…

“I would step down from the throne before I asked him to make that choice,” Crowley said firmly.

Dean looked at him in disbelief, Beatrice in disgust. “And that’s why you’re a terrible king,” she said viciously.

“Well. Lucky for you, you won’t have to be subject to my reign any longer.” Almost quicker than Dean could follow, he pulled out an angel blade and ran Beatrice through the chest.

“Crowley…” Dean breathed as he dropped his hand from the dead demon’s throat.

He shrugged as he looked up at him. “I still stand by that the Contra will fall apart without her.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“The I’ll step down.” His eyes darkened. “And I’ll take every demon down with me.”

Dean stared at him, and as soon as he made the realization, the words came tumbling from his mouth, “I love you.”

Crowley smiled. “Love you, too.”

He was walking around the desk to Crowley’s side when his brother and Castiel entered the room.

“Before you two start making out,” Sam announced. “Please remember that we’re right here.”

“You say that like it makes a difference,” Crowley drawled.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you two ever gonna get along?” he sighed.

“After all that… maybe,” Sam said with a small smile at his brother. “He clearly cares about you a lot.”

His answering smile was huge.

“Just don’t go spreading that around, moose,” Crowley said before Dean could come up with a response. “Apparently, demons already have a poor enough opinion of me as it is.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Castiel asked.

“I need someone smart who can use statistics and whatever other means they have at their disposal to monitor and figure out if the Contra is still active.” To everyone’s surprise, he looked at Sam.

Sam blinked. “You want me to do it?”

“With Dean’s help, of course. I don’t know who else I can trust.”

He nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

“Thank you.” He looked around at them all. “Then all there is to do is wait and see.”

* * *

 

So, they waited, and a month later, they were satisfied that the Contra had indeed disbanded. Finally, they felt they could relax.

“You realize that Sam now knows an awful lot about the inner workings of Hell,” Dean pointed out as he and Crowley lay in bed together one night.

Crowley shrugged. “I’m not worried. Besides, now the two of you don’t have to feel like there’s secrets between you. He knows exactly what you’re up to, and you don’t have to feel awkward whenever he asks about Hell.”

“Yeah, that is nice,” he admitted.

“I thought it might be.” He rolled onto his side, pulling Dean’s back against him and wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m curious,” Dean spoke up again after several minutes of cuddling in contented silence. “What would you have done if the Contra was still active?”

“I’d have closed the gates of Hell,” he said simply.

He twisted around to stare at him in shock. “Seriously?”

“Why not? If they’re going to betray me, I’ll gladly return the favor.” He ran his hand over Dean’s bare chest. “I could still do it, of course. It would be just you and me, the last two demons on the face of the Earth.”

“It does have a nice ring to it.” He smiled. “Maybe one of these days, when bossing around demons stops being so fun.”

“Maybe,” Crowley agreed, then he leaned in and kissed him.

Maybe they would close the gates of Hell one of these days. Dean wasn’t sure what that would look like, but he had long ago stopped daydreaming about what the future might hold. He preferred to live in the present. And presently, he was happy in Crowley’s embrace, and he had no desire to worry about anything else. Tomorrow he’d get up and have to kick some demons into line, possibly deal with some pressing issue in Hell, or maybe his brother and Castiel would call him for help on a hunt, or just invite him and Crowley to dinner. It didn’t matter. Whatever tomorrow held, he would worry about it then. Right now, the only thing he cared about was the demon right in front of him, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Crowley felt the same.


End file.
